


Into The Unknown

by IsaacTheGreat69



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 2020 election - Freeform, Anxiety, Mentions of Racism, Politics, mentions of anti-vaxx rhetoric, mentions of islamophobia, mentions of transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27505822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsaacTheGreat69/pseuds/IsaacTheGreat69
Summary: Patton has a big decision to make, and despite how easy everyone makes it sound, he struggles.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	Into The Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song by Frozen and also current events (and a little by Katy Perry but you’d have to know what’s going on with her rn to get that)

Patton stares down at the piece of paper, pen in hand, blood running cold through his veins. A year and a half - four, if he’s being honest - and he still hasn’t decided what to do. The moment is here, and he’s ashamed to admit that he’s still not sure what the right thing to do is. This one decision could change the lives of himself and every person he knows for years to come, and he still can’t make a choice. 

_ Patton sits beside his childhood friend on his worn-down couch as their body shudders with sobs, their face in their hands. They’ve been working with Ford for years, worked their way up, clawing and fighting to get decent pay and benefits. Their boss had just announced that morning that they and about 1,200 other people were losing their jobs, the labor being outsourced to Mexico and the factory shutting down. They would lose their insurance, their livelihood, and they were barely doing better than living paycheck to paycheck. Patton wraps an arm around them, assuring them in a soft voice that everything would be okay, they’d figure something out. _

**“And we are going to the White House, and we are going to bring jobs back to our country…** **We have a lot to overcome in our country, especially the fact that our jobs are being taken away from us and going to other lands.”**

_ “I can’t fucking believe this,” Roman mutters, pacing back and forth from the kitchen to the living room and back, a piece of paper clutched tightly in his hands. “I can’t fucking believe this! I’m being fined! For not having insurance! What a load of crap!” _

_ Patton raises his hands peacefully. “It’ll be okay, kiddo, I promise. We’ll figure this-” _

_ “No, we won’t “figure this out”! Fucking  _ Obama _ , stupid fucking Centrist! I can’t believe I voted for him! Fucking Obamacare, telling me I  _ have  _ to be insured! I don’t have the fucking money for this!” _

**“A total disaster. It will be repealed. It will be replaced… Great healthcare, get rid of Obamacare.”**

_ Valerie laughs brokenly, her eyes wet with tears and a shaky, disbelieving smile on her face as she looks at her childhood friend. “I just wish they’d listen. I just… I wish no one was playing politics with our lives. Our families.” _

**“** **They haven’t had those victories for a long time, a victory for every citizen and for all of the people whose voices have not been heard for many, many years. They’re going to be heard again.”**

_ Patton’s father sighs, watching the proceedings of the congressional vote with a look of disappointment. He looks to his son, sixteen, barely old enough to understand the machinations of a complex and corrupt government and too young to have that on his shoulders. “Never, ever listen to a politician, son. Few men should be judged for their words. Look to their actions instead.” _

_ Patton nods, frowning slightly. His father was rarely this heavy. “Uh, yeah. Sure, dad.” _

_ Mr. Hart nods and turns his attention back to the TV. _

**“Government will become lean, effective, responsible, and honest… The only way to change results is to change leadership. We can never fix our problems by relying on the same politicians who created our problems in the first place.”**

Patton’s grip on his pen tightens. His fingertips turn white. He forgets the world outside of his curtained isolation.

_ Logan watched the coverage with a grim expression, reminding Patton for a moment of his father all those years ago. He frowns. “Lolo? What’s wrong?” _

_ Logan gestures at the TV as if that answers everything. “He cannot do this.” _

_ “Do what?” _

_ Logan looks at Patton with surprise and disbelief. “He just approved the destruction of Native-owned land for an oil pipeline!” _

_ “Well… Yeah, but…” _

_ “There are no buts about it, Patton. That pipeline is not only invading native land, which is not in our right to do, but the resulting destruction and pollution will taint the water supply and harm the local ecosystem. No number of jobs is worth that.”  _

_ Patton turns to watch the reporter on the screen, worrying his lower lip. He was beginning to feel a little heavy.  _

**“When completed, the Keystone XL pipeline will span 900 miles - wow - and have the capacity to deliver more than 800,000 barrels of oil per day to the Gulf Coast refineries.”**

_ Patton turns off the TV with a sigh, feeling heavy. He’s felt heavy since February, and it showed no signs of letting up. He had a feeling he’d made a grave mistake. A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts and he looks up. “It’s open,” he calls. _

_ His friend nearly throws the door open, a bright smile on their face. “He did it!” They cry, running up to Patton with relieved tears in their eyes. “Patton, he actually did it, the factory opened back up, I’m getting my job back, and I’m going to get a bonus!” _

_ Patton beams, the heaviness that had settled over him lifting, if only for a moment. Maybe he hadn’t voted wrong after all. “That’s great! I’m so glad to hear that, it must be such a huge relief.” _

_ They nod, pulling Patton into a tight hug. “He really is making America great again,” they say softly. They pull back after a moment, hands on Patton’s shoulders. “So. Wanna go out to celebrate?” _

_ “Let’s go!” _

**“Unemployment for young Americans age sixteen to nineteen has reached the lowest rate in over half a century. The unemployment rates for African Americans, Hispanic Americans, and Asian Americans have all reached their lowest levels ever recorded. Wages are rising, and they’re growing fastest for blue collar workers. Isn’t that great, though? People don’t talk about that. Young people have seen their wages rise by more than ten percent. That’s a lot quickly, too.”**

Patton slowly and hesitantly lowers the tip of his pen to the paper, a dot of ink just barely coloring the page before he pulls it back. 

_ Virgil scoffs as he watches the news from Patton’s couch, sitting with his legs crossed and hands shoved into his hoodie sleeves. “You see this trans ban shit? Fucking transphobic piece of shit.”  _

_ Patton gives him a strained smile from the kitchen. “It’s not all bad, kiddo! Silver lining, trans men are exempt from the draft! You always said that was a messed up system.” _

_ Virgil huffs, sending a disapproving look Patton’s way. “Yeah, but it’s no one’s place to take the right to serve away from them if they want it. This bullshit about medical expenses isn’t even true, there aren’t  _ that many  _ trans people in the military, let alone trans people using the service as an excuse for free transition. He’s just a bigoted asshole using any excuse he can to alienate members of our community.” _

_ Patton’s smile wanes and he brings out a plate of cookies in lieu of responding to Virgil’s comment. _

**“** **After consultation with my Generals and military experts, please be advised that the United States Government will not accept or allow transgender individuals to serve in any capacity in the U.S. Military. Our military must be focused on decisive and overwhelming victory and cannot be burdened with the tremendous medical costs and disruption that transgender in the military would entail. Thank you.”**

_ Patton’s smile instantly falters as he opens the door to his friend, tears streaming down their face and shoulders shaking with sobs. He hasn’t seen them this upset since they lost their job. “Oh, kiddo…” He ushers them inside quickly, making busywork of making tea for the both of them which he sets on the coffee table as he sits beside them.  _

_ They sniffle, picking up their mug and just holding it as they compose themself. “My family can’t come to the wedding. If there even will be a wedding,” they add as a miserable afterthought. Patton blinks in shock, laying his hand over theirs.  _

_ “Farhan, what are you talking about? Why can’t your family come? Why would you cancel the wedding?” _

_ Farhan scoffs wetly. “Patton, do you live in a bubble? The president has expressed Islamophobia. He has instituted a ban on Muslims coming into the country for any reason. Even if my family could make it into the country, Muslim-centric hate crimes and mosque burnings are rising all over the country. I won’t put anyone in that kind of danger.” _

_ Patton studies Farhan’s face sadly. “I… I understand. I’m so sorry.” _

_ Farhan shakes their head. “You have nothing to apologize for. You are not the president, my dear friend.” _

No _ , Patton thinks,  _ but I voted for him.

**“We have entire regions of the world destabilized by terrorism and ISIS. For this reason, I issued an executive order to temporarily suspend immigration from places where it cannot safely occur.”**

_ Patton had been trying to get a hold of Roman for hours, unable to sleep through the night as each call went to voicemail. He was supposed to come over for a Disney marathon to lift both of their spirits, but he’d never shown up. As the sun starts to rise, Patton begins to fear the worst. Should he call the hospital? The police? He had no idea what he was supposed to do in this situation and he was so, so scared for his friend.  _

_ A loud thump against his front door startles Patton to his feet. He silently shuffles over to the door, cautiously peeking through the spyhole and gasping when he catches sight of Roman’s red jacket. He yanks the door open and Roman nearly falls over, having been supporting his weight on the wood.  _

_ Patton quickly helps Roman over to the couch, his worry growing as he takes in his appearance. Roman’s hair is matted, he has a split lip, and several bruises are forming along his jaw, nose and under his eye. Patton sucks in a shaky breath. “Who… Who did this to you,” he asks shakily, gently stroking Roman’s bruised jaw with his thumb.  _

_ “The cops,” Roman grumbles.  _

_ Patton’s eyes widen. “What?!” The police hurt Roman? But why would they do that?  _

_ Roman snrks. “Are you honestly surprised? Look at me, Pat! One look at me and they had all the proof they needed to assume I’m a criminal. I’m not the first Dominican to get roughed up by the cops, you know that.” _

_ “But- but you’re so  _ nice _!” _

_ “What, and those other guys weren’t?” _

_ Patton doesn’t know what to say to that. _

**“When you guys put somebody in the car and you're protecting their head, you know, the way you put their hand over, like, don't hit their head and they've just killed somebody. Don't hit their head. I said, you can take the hand away, okay?”**

_ Patton sighs heavily as he sits down on the couch, head falling into his hands. A moment later the cushion beside him dips under someone else’s weight. _

_ “Hard day at work,” Logan asks softly. _

_ “A kid in my class has measles,” Patton says softly.  _

_ “Oh Patton, I’m so sorry.” _

_ “His mom… She decided she’d rather risk her child’s life than have a child with autism. I know- I know that’s all false, but that’s where she’s at. That’s what these parents are thinking. How could they even….” _

_ Logan wraps an arm around Patton silently. _

**“** **Healthy young child goes to doctor, gets pumped with massive shot of many vaccines, doesn't feel good and changes - AUTISM. Many such cases!”**

_ “200,000!” Patton cries, tears streaming down his face. Virgil stands across from him, looking anxious and uncertain how to help. “200,000 people are  _ dead  _ because he didn’t want to “waste money”! More die every day and he keeps insisting it’s just a flu! What is  _ wrong  _ with him?!” _

_ “I don’t know, Pat,” Virgil says softly, gently taking Patton’s hands. “But… It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.” _

_ “No we’re not! I’m not!” Patton sobs. Virgil frowns in concern. _

_ “Why do you say that?” _

_ “Because it’s my fault he’s the president!” _

**“Some of the people we cut, they haven’t been used for many, many years and if- if we ever need ‘em we can get ‘em very quickly. And rather than spending the money- I’m a businessperson- and I don’t like having thousands of people around when you don’t need ‘em.”**

Patton blinks the tears out of his eyes. The rest of his ballot has been filled out for almost half an hour. Two empty bubbles stare up at him. Trump, or Biden. Biden, or Trump. No matter who he votes for, he’s going in blind. He doesn’t know anything about these men, not really. He thought Trump would help him and his friends, but all he’s done is hurt them. But is Biden any better? He’s a politician - decades of payouts and promises and debts, decades of twisting words and empty promises. Patton shakes his head, biting his bottom lip hard. He squeezes his eyes shut until light explodes behind the lids and he brings the pen down on paper. 

**November 7th, noon**

Patton has had frayed nerves for days now. The longer the election draws out, the worse he feels. Who will win? Will dragging it out make people more angry? Will there be riots and looting? Will his friends be hurt? What if Biden wins? What if Trump wins? He’s been pacing his apartment for over an hour now, debating with himself whether he should turn on the news or not. For days now it’s yielded little results; a few states were in a sort of limbo as ballots were counted and recounted, leaving every news station to analyze and extrapolate and guess and drive Patton insane. 

He ultimately loses the battle, picking up the remote and turning the TV on. As expected, the two news anchors are just discussing the past few days. He sighs, tossing the remote back onto the couch. His hands fidget as he watches, trying to keep his breathing even. It’s fine, this is fine, they’re going as fast as they can. 

“We have an election update. The numbers are coming in for Pennsylvania. Biden is leading by point-seven percent and the Associated Press has called it, giving him twenty electoral votes. Biden has won the election and is now president-elect.”

Patton feels numb. He can no longer feel his hands, their fidgeting stopped. The voice of the news anchor fades away and he stares at the screen with uncomprehending eyes that quickly fill with tears. 

As suddenly as it happened, his senses come back to him. He lets out a shaky laugh, smiling so wide it hurts, and he falls to his knees. They did it. They won. Trump lost. Patton sobs, hugging himself as he squeezes his eyes shut and prays that God will now forgive him for his sins. 

It’s time to heal.


End file.
